The same place (Рассказ)

The evening sky turned grey. The tired sun hid behind the solid clouds. A grumble spread around threatening a small city. It was the sign that it was just the time for rain. Now the people who were unlucky to appear on the streets got worried. The rain in that area was cold and long-lasting, it enjoyed pouring when nobody expected. It never cared about your plans, it never wished to negotiate. Rain, time and accident are pitiless.
The walkers got their umbrellas, mostly black, and prepared for the coming downpour. Soon I could hear the drops hitting the roofs of the houses and cars. They ran down to the ground soaking into it and making everything wet and cold. I could smell the rain. It smelled like apples to me. Juicy yellow apples I used to taste each autumn. Why don’t people like rain? It makes them run away. Well, it leaves more space for those who likes and honors the rain. Soon the streets became deserted and I could breathe more freely without those black umbrellas. I wish that was enough for happiness.
I was left alone under a big oak. Its leaves served me as a shield from falling water. I closed my eyes dissolving in those minutes of peace. I could hear nothing but the trembling leaves. I could feel nothing but the light pain in my chest. It ached less when I could smell nothing but the trembling leaves. The rain knew how to please me. I was thankful.  
Something made me open my eyes and look around. No one was there, just me and the rain. But in some minutes there was a change. There was someone else. Over there, on the corner of that white house. Some yellow spot appeared 5 minutes away. My bad eyesight didn’t allow me to recognize what or who it was. That spot was the only bright touch on the general grey picture of the rainy streets. It was going in my direction squelching on the puddles.
Soon I could see a figure of a closely-known person under a yellow umbrella. I didn’t expect to see him. It was He, he, who loved the rain as I did. He, who gave me those apples. In past times we would hide in the loft during the rain and eat the fresh apples from his mother’s garden.
He was moving towards me. He slightly raised the corners of his lips, his brown eyes smiled to me and caused shallow wrinkles on his young face, that dear face.
I was captured by his gaze. I stood under that oak speechless, I was surprised. Soon he stepped into my shelter and we both appeared under one tree. Dear warmth he emitted got under my skin and reached my heart, and then he came to me and took my hand. The pain in my chest was away now. I’ve been waiting for so long.
The time he was away seemed to me eternity. Suddenly I remembered the last day we met. I got confused. Something was wrong. The conscious was now in blur. The unwelcomed sadness crept into my soul, and the old pain returned. He saw that I my countenance but didn’t react. He continued smiling and my little cold hand was still sinking in his big and warm one.  
His eyes were telling me that everything was alright and I carefully stroked his head. Was that a dream, or was my life a dream? Anyway that moment was the only moment that meant! I would stand under that oak for ever... No words escaped from our mouths, no words were even needed and only music of the falling rain and dancing wind was filling the empty silence.
Then he smiled playfully and hid his hands behind his back hinting that I should guess the hand. I pointed on the right one (he always hided the surprise in the right hand). I guessed as I always did. He showed me a small paper box. Some memories appeared in my mind, good memmories that I will never forget, memmories about the day and place where everything began. That little thing reminded me the day we first met.
My mind counted several years back and brought me right to the same oak I were standing under . The picture of past was similar to the present one, except some facts: he wasn’t there with me yet, the day was sunny and warm...and I was ten years old.
I was a little girl with a bit disheveled golden hair, big green eyes and rosy chicks. My charachter and way of life could be easily determined when looking at all the wounds and scratches that covered all my knees and elbows. I was full of life energy and curiousity to everything that happened in the huge world. That’s why I could always find the way to hurt myself.
My imaginary “Me” suddenly jumped, widely smiled and ran on the grass with hands raised up to the blue sky. My legs felt little frost, caused by the fresh morning dew. I was following a beautiful yellow butterfly. Its thin, almost transparent wings slowly moved up and down expressing no noise, and attracting my growing attention. Its light little body was pulled by the soft summer wind and made it change the direction. My hands were still trying to catch the yellow little thing and I didn’t notice how I passed my white house and appeared on the road.
Everything happened very fast and unpredictable but I will remember it for my whole life. I was just to catch the butterfly, as it was so close to my hand, when somebody forcely pushed me and fell on me, causing my angry dissatisfaction and dissapointment. Somebody prevented me from getting what I wanted! Lying on the asphalt I could only notice how car  wheels ran just close to my head. The needles of fair suddenly pricked my body. I realized what had happened and looked at my saver who was still lying on me and, as I finally understood, that was protecting me.
It was a black-haired boy of about the same age as I was. His deep hazel eyes expressed horror and care. From that day we were the best friends ever. In some years we fell in love with each other and nothing could separate us, even such cruel thing as destiny.
I escaped from my memmories and found myself again standing under a big oak. The weather was gloomy. It rained. Everything surrounding me was grey...Everything except a small insect with thin yellow wings in a little box that I were holding in my hands. The butterfly almost didn’t change, only shabby wings told that it was no longer alive, though still very beautiful and dear.  
I raised my head but he wasn’t there...I looked around and found myself alone. My dream was so close to reality, my reality was so far from desired.
The ache increased. Now it pulsated throughout my body. It hurt me when I breathed, it hurt me when I kept the breath, it hurt any way and nothing could ease my suffering. Then I did something that my whole body, soul and heart strove never to do. But I did. I turned around and looked at the oak and somethig on the ground near it. I saw that I would never want to see. It was a grave...and a sign on the oak we made three month ago, before summer holidays began, before the cruitial car accident...
The sign said: “ Nothing will ever make me stop loving you”.